Take Off the Mask
by littleredkels
Summary: A secret love. A forbidden love. A one night stand that should have never been just one night. All wasted. All gone. All ripped out of Tony Stark's grasp just when he thought the war was over. When it all should have gone back to the way it was before. The way it was supposed to be all along. It wasn't worth it. "All you had to do was take off the mask..." Major character death.


**SO. To preface this, I have not read all of the Civil War comics, though I AM working on doing so, so please please please PLEASE don't rip my head off for any mistakes. I did as much research as I could on the details.**

**Secondly, I take no responsibility for your feels. I refuse. Though I will come to your house and cry over buckets of buckets of ice cream with you if you want.**

**I OWN NOTHING.**

* * *

The past few hours were no more than blur in Stark's mind as he paced his way across a lone hallway, nearly sure that his shoes were going to wear through the metal beneath his feet. He only wished the blur didn't stick out so sorely in his mind.

"Sir, incoming news from the sentencing of Captain Rogers."

He stiffened at the name, eyes closing, teeth clenched together at the mere mention of the name.

"Director, Captain America is down."

_Captain America is down.  
Is down.  
Down._

"What the hell do you mean 'down'?" the words tumbled from his mouth in a rush of adrenaline.

"Fallen, sir. He's been shot, the wound was fatal. He was dead before the medics got there. Steve Rogers is dead."  
-

It was after those words that everything fell apart. There was nothing more in his mind than shouting, screaming, he may have even thrown a few blows, but as the director, the rest of SHIELD held their distance considerably. Phone calls were made, arrangements carried out and after landing his fist into one too many walls, he was informed through the com in his ear, " Director Stark. He's here."

He was there in under a minute flat, panting as though he'd run a mile. Which he nearly had. Sprinted, honestly, but no one asked. The task force situated outside the door stared at the Director and no one dared to make a comment when the words "GET OUT" were literally screamed at them. Once he was alone in the hall, Tony faltered, his hand hovering just above the pad that would scan his hand print. _Steve Rogers is dead._ He felt sick at his stomach, as though he'd received a blow to the gut. He swallowed, finally placing his hand on the pad and, forcing his heart to lurch, the doors opened. He took one step inside, another, and one more before the metal door closed with a heavy _thunk_ behind him. Laying on an exam table before him was the form of a man who had been his everything without even knowing it. "Steve." The name left his lips like something tainted. A rose petal who's edges had been seared by a fire. Approaching the table, he felt something inside his chest snap in two and he took a long, shuddering breath. "Rogers." This time he spoke with more force in his voice. The way he would speak to a SHIELD agent to get their attention. "Captain!" More frantic now, that of a mother who'd lost her child in the midst of a bustling crowd.

He was at the side of the table now and he reached out a trembling hand to lay on the cold, unmoving chest of the man before him. "Steve, please... Please... PLEASE." he squeezed his voice out between gritted teeth, his fingers clenching around the blood stained prison jumper. "Open your eyes, Rogers! Fucking open your god damn blue fucking eyes!" He grasped the shirt with both hands now and shook. But the body did nothing but flop in a way that made him gag. "God dammit... God... Fucking dammit!" And it only took seconds for the man to climb onto the table, suit and all and pull the limp, lifeless form of his one-time lover into his lap. "Shit..." he tucked Steve's cold face against the crook of his neck, closing his eyes and desperately trying to remember the feel of warm breath and chaste kisses from what seemed like so long ago. "Please... Please, please, please, please..." Steve did nothing but lay in his arms. Motionless. Lifeless. **_Dead._** "This... No... No... NO!" with the words he let out a ragged scream. A noise that ripped and tore at his vocal chords, made him taste the metallic pang of blood at the back of his tongue. "You can't do this to me!" Pulling the body away from his chest, he stared into the face that almost looked peaceful in its death. "You can't leave me like this! Dammit Steve, it was over! It was fucking over you can't just DIE!"

The hand that reached up to push blonde hair from the man's cold forehead was trembling as though he were having a seizure. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way... This... Steve,_ please_..." But no matter the amount of tears he shed or how much he begged, the shock of blue irises never did greet him. "All you had to do was take off the STUPID mask. Dammit Steve that's all they wanted! That's all they ever _fucking_ wanted!" He let his head hang now, another screaming sob ripping from his throat as his own skin was pressed against the sickly cold flesh of his old flame. "It wasn't worth it..." he breathed, hand still running through stringy blonde strands, his body beginning to rock the man in his arms. "It wasn't worth it. Not this... Not you..." he choked on his own voice, "Dammit..." he was reduced to nothing more than body heaving sobs, then. It could have been minutes. Hours. _Days_. He had no idea how long he sat there, rocking the Captain in his arms as though with enough persuasion, those eyes would open again for him. Show him the shocking blue he'd fallen so hard for. Given him another glimpse of that heart stopping smile. "I love you. I'm so sorry. I should have said it. I should have never let you leave that night, Steve I am so sorry." He breathed the words against clammy skin and pulled away, staring down into what had once been the handsome face of his best friend.

"I love you. I love you. I. Will. _Always_. Love you-" he choked off in a sob, tears sliding down his cheeks and onto the dull skin. The skin that used to heat up bright red whenever Tony would say something in appropriate. He gave a strangled laugh at the thought, "You fucking boyscout..." the words held a bitter taste. "You're an asshole, Rogers. Leaving me like this..." Tony lifted his hand once more, caressing the man's cheek as he'd done so many times that night. Their night. "You... You better wait for me..." his words faltered and now he'd lost all will to fight. Every trace of anger that he had left his body and all he had left was... Was this...

He laid the body back against the table, allowing himself to crawl down, reaching out to flatten the bloody orange fabric. Steve wouldn't want to look like a mess. Not even now. "I love you, Captain Steven Grant Rogers, so you'd better fucking wait for me..." He leaned over, catching cold lips against his own in a last attempt to bring warmth and life back to the body before him. It was a wasted effort, he knew that, but he had to _try_.

It was with that that he left the room. Left the door to slide shut behind him. Left the hall to head back to his private office. Left the team at the main frame buzzing with questions that he wouldn't answer. Left the glass empty and the bottle pressed to his lips. Left the bottle empty and opted for another.

It was with that that he left his every will to live in the room with the cold dead body of Captain America.


End file.
